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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141678">The Aftermath of Hell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodsHumbleClown/pseuds/GodsHumbleClown'>GodsHumbleClown</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:15:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>752</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodsHumbleClown/pseuds/GodsHumbleClown</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This title? I do not like it. But it is what it is. </p><p>Request was for Sprace, where Spot deals with he-who-shall-not-be-named (Daniel). <br/>Obviously, this isnt like, "oh, they talked about it, so now it's all good", because that's not how it works. But it's them trying to make a start, and figure out what is good and okay and safe now.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Take These Broken Wings</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Aftermath of Hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Racetrack ran a hand absently through Spot's hair, gently stroking his jawline. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The TV screen gave them a bit of light, and Racetrack periodically glanced down from the movie to look at Spot's head resting in his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Absolutely perfect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Racetrack leaned down and kissed his forehead lightly, then turned back to Spaceballs, a sci-fi adventure with a main protagonist who looked hilariously similar to Denton. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Race had insisted on coming over the second Denton gave the okay, and Spot hadn't argued at all. Now they sat in the dark living room, as, by some miracle, they had gotten permission for Racetrack to stay the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most likely they wouldn't move from the couch, but that was absolutely fine with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had Spot, a pile of blankets, and a horribly wonderful movie to watch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Also snacks. Bryan Denton was amazing at finding food that was not only good, but also wouldn't kill Spot to eat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So yeah, things were great. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until Racetrack looked down and saw tears running down Spot's face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Spot? What's wrong?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tugged on his boyfriend's arm. Spot shuddered and pulled away, burying his face in one of their many blankets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd never seen Spot cry before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was trembling like a leaf and Racetrack had no idea why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he had some idea why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot had been through hell. Real, serious issues, and of course, he was still upset. But Racetrack didn't know what he'd done to make Spot upset so suddenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the movie, and they had just been sitting there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So why was Spot so upset?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please, Spot." Racetrack wrapped his arms around Spot's shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, whatever I did. Just tell me so I can never do it again."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot shuddered and looked up, face red and streaked with tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned on Racetrack's side, still shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Race, I-" he choked on the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, at least, was a relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot was staring at their hands, fingers tangled together tight and secure, like the best knots any boy scout could ever aspire to tie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did David tell you everything that happened?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Racetrack said cautiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't know much, really. Just that Spot wasn't in great shape, he'd been hurt, he would be okay eventually, and there was some confusing legal stuff that he didn't understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot stared silently at nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was bad, Racetrack. Real bad. They… it was bad," he said softly, voice shaking with little hiccups as he continued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"D-daniel w-was the w-worst. He was my-my parents f-friend. He..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot choked again, biting down on his wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Racetrack gently pulled his arm away. Spot would hurt himself if he kept that up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He kept </span>
  <em>
    <span>touching</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, like, really touching me. A-and I just..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Racetrack's heart broke at the little sob that came out of Spot's throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just... when you... it felt like..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Race tucked Spot's blanket tighter around his trembling shoulders, hoping to help at least a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>stand</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see him like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It felt like him. When you kissed me. All I could see..."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God, no. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Why was Racetrack so </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have made sure. Should have checked with Spot earlier, or even just asked David before he came over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he hadn't. He'd let his emotions take over, and now look what happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Spot, I'm so sorry. I didn't know... I won't do it again, I promise."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot sat up, now looking directly into Racetrack's eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep, shuddering breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, it's okay. It's not that, or just that as itself. I mean…" he trailed off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can still kiss me and stuff. Just, like, I don't know. I guess ask first. And then I'll be expecting it," he explained, leaning into Racetrack's side again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay. If I forget, you have total freedom to set me on fire." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot snorted a half laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I dont think so."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Racetrack curled around Spot protectively while they finished their movie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nobody was going to hurt him ever again, not if Racetrack Higgins had anything to say about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spot was warm and here and perfect and real, and Racetrack would make sure he felt safe no matter what. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey Spot?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mmhmm?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can I kiss you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had a few moments of silence, aside from the blip-zip noise of Spaceballs shenanigans on the screen, mostly going ignored. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you, Spot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you, Racer. Now shut up and watch the movie."</span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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